Gospel Story Finder

Thompson remembered from his boyhood in Norway speeding down mountains on skis. Why can’t mail be delivered this way, he reasoned.

In January of 1856, Thompson set out on his first mail run from Placerville, California, on the western slope of the Sierras, to Carson Valley on the east side, nearly one hundred miles away. To travel on top of the snow, he wore ten-foot-long, twenty-five-pound runners that he had whittled himself. Observers and Thompson both called them Norwegian snowshoes.

His first winter trip might have been Thompson’s last, because at one point he mistakenly trusted a snowbridge across a chasm. It had seemed firm and solidly frozen, but when he reached the center, it began to pull away from the cliff behind him. Fortunately, he managed to grab a tough pine root on the cliff ahead just as the bridge collapsed and fell into the rocky abyss below. He thanked God and vowed he would never make that mistake again.

As he went on, he had to judge correctly the safety of the icy crust of fifty-foot drifts. He kept his bearings by observing trees, wind direction, rock and mountain formations. When nighttime came, he stayed on course by observing the stars. He slept warmly at night by setting a stump afire, hollowing a cave in a snowdrift facing the fire, and lining the cave with pine boughs.

It took three days’ travel for the longer, steeper climbs of the eastward crossing and two days to return to California. When the citizens of Placerville, California, heard Thompson’s High Sierra whoops as he skimmed down the last slope carrying mail from Carson Valley, they cheered. “Snowshoe Thompson!” they shouted, and the name “Snowshoe” was born.

After my wife, Jean, and I were baptized on 27 October 1957, we did not start paying tithing right away as we should have. I thought we had too many debts and too little money. I should have known that we could not afford not to pay it.
When a year passed, we were expecting our third child. We had just purchased a new house and also had several more debts. About this time, my wife said, “We need to pay our tithing.” I did not know how we could because we had no money left after our expenses, but I said, “We will do it.” And we did.
We had already moved into our new house, but the loan had not yet closed because the street and the driveway were not finished. It soon began to rain and rain and rain some more. As a result, the work on the street and driveway was delayed. The loan did not close, so we had no house payments.
By the time the work was finally completed, the mortgage company had lost the loan papers and seemed in no hurry to find them. When the papers were finally found, we had lived in our house for six or seven months without making a single payment. We were able to get ahead on some of our other payments during this time.
Things have not always been financially easy for us, but we have never stopped paying our tithing. We call this experience a blessing from heaven.
Henry Hardnock, Midland Second Ward, Odessa Texas Stake

A lot of children at school use language that makes me uncomfortable. My mom and I said a prayer to ask for courage and to know the best thing to do. The next day when they started to use that language, I politely said, “Please stop using those words. It makes me feel uncomfortable.” They said, “OK, sorry.” That made me feel happy inside, and I was glad I learned that Heavenly Father will help me when I ask for help.
Bella T., age 10, Virginia, USA

Jakarta, Indonesia
“Christmas in Indonesia is definitely not a white Christmas, and it’s not cold. Also, although there might be some Christmas decorations here and there in malls, cafes, or hotels, the majority of the people here don’t celebrate Christmas.
“Still, my family celebrates as best as we can. I love eating cookies and sipping hot chocolate, shopping for new Christmas ornaments, and decorating the Christmas tree.
“Last Christmas I was with my parents and my brother only. I wasn’t able to meet my other relatives like my uncles, aunties, cousins, and grandparents due to COVID-19. It felt rather lonely and empty because we would usually gather together.
“Despite the circumstances we were in, it didn’t stop us from remembering the meaning of Christmas day, which is the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Throughout our Christmas celebration, we were able to eat delicious meals and to dress in nice clothing. I was lucky enough to receive a gift, and I got so many warm virtual Christmas greetings from the lovely people around me. These are wonderful blessings, and I was able to stay focused on Christ as I remember to be grateful for everything.”
Abigail S., 14, Jakarta, Indonesia

In December 2005 some relatives who are members of the Church visited my wife and me in Colombia. Before they returned home, my uncle gave me two wonderful gifts—a triple combination and some old issues of the Liahona.
I began to read the November 2004 issue, which contained the talks from October conference. I read “Condition of the Church,” by President Gordon B. Hinckley, and “Prophets, Seers, and Revelators,” by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland. The testimonies of these great men led me to begin reading the Book of Mormon and the Bible.
The result was the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to us. My wife and I made the best decision we have ever made—we were baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Edgar Henry Muñoz Porras, Colombia

Julius Tirazona, another member of the local security detail for Elder and Sister Bednar, found it refreshing to see a lighter and carefree side of Elder Bednar as he joked around with those traveling with him. “I remember fondly when Elder Bednar was speaking in Tarlac,” he recalled. “Sister Bednar suddenly joined him on the stand to react to what he said and before she sat back down, she kissed Elder Bednar on the lips.” The members of the congregation gushed and cheered, which prompted Sister Bednar to stand up again and apologize, to which Elder Bednar humorously replied: “‘You don’t apologize because you kissed your spouse,’ Elder Bednar told her with a smile.”

A little while back, my friend and I were going to the girls’ washroom at school to wash our hands. We had just been doing an art project and had paste on our fingers. But when we got to the bathroom the sink was a complete disaster! There was soapy water everywhere. My friend and I quickly decided that we should clean it up before washing our hands. When we finished I felt good inside. I have just been baptized and I knew it was the Holy Ghost giving me that warm feeling. I am trying to act more Christlike every day.

I recently saw printed on a young man’s worn T-shirt a slogan from a bygone youth conference. It read, “Yagottawanna.” I jokingly guessed it might be an ancient Indian word, but I asked him to explain it to me. He gave me that “you gotta be kiddin’” look, but condescended to answer anyway. “‘Yagottawanna,’” he said, “means that you have to want to do something before you will do it.” Of course I knew that all along, but it was good to hear him say it.

I never forgot Elder Lee’s advice. I came to Salt Lake City, Utah, on furlough and went to the Salt Lake Temple. After I left the military and went to college, I saved money for a mission. During my mission, I was able to open the Okinawa area, where my father was from, for missionary work. Later, serving as president of the Tokyo Temple, I had the wonderful blessing of seeing many of the Japanese Saints receive their temple endowments. Seeing the joy in the faces of those being sealed was a great blessing.

It is important for us to remember, however, that sometimes the Lord’s desires differ from ours. As his agents in the performance of priesthood duties, it is mandatory that we be receptive to his inspiration. A missionary I knew had a sobering experience giving a blessing. He was working on a renovation project at a branch chapel in New Zealand. The branch president, who was doing some repairs on the roof, lost his footing and fell to the pavement below. Immediately the missionary ran to his side and pronounced a powerful blessing, promising him life and complete restoration to health. A few minutes later, the branch president died.

Greatly disillusioned, the missionary went to his apartment and wrote three letters: one to his mission president, one to his bishop, and one to the president of the Church. The letters outlined his disenchantment with the priesthood and his intention to abandon his missionary service. Then he went to bed.

After worrying, struggling, and praying intermittently throughout the night, he gradually came to understand that the Lord’s will had been done—and that he needed to seek the inspiration and guidance of the Lord earnestly before undertaking any administration.

I was one of 12 high school students selected from Fairfield College in Hamilton, New Zealand, to participate in a program called Project K. The first part involved a three-week wilderness adventure, including canoeing, exploring caves, rock climbing, mountain biking, and sleeping and cooking our meals in all sorts of conditions. We spent most of our days in torrential rain and cold.
Sometimes spirits were low, and there were tears of frustration. We learned about teamwork and endurance. We encouraged each other through the challenges that came to us every day. One person chose to go home—it was just too much.
Halfway through the adventure, we got to write a letter home. As I wrote my letter, the tears welled up as I expressed my love and appreciation to my family. I realized just how much I missed the simple things in life like family prayers, scripture reading, family home evening, seminary, and attending church. I was saddened because I couldn’t picture my baby sister’s face in my mind.
I was thankful that I’d brought my pocket-sized Book of Mormon with me. I would sit inside my bivouac and read by flashlight. Everyone was pretty tired after each day, and they’d just go to sleep. After a day or so, more of my companions became curious about what I was reading. They became interested when I told them about the stripling warriors, Nephi and Laban, Ammon, and especially Nephi and his broken bow. Everyone could relate to the challenges of the wilderness.
By the end of our adventure, every night before sleeping, all 12 of us would huddle under my bivouac and listen as I read from the Book of Mormon. I know that the prophets of old were able to speak to us all on those cold, dark, rainy nights. I know that I gained strength to endure the difficult challenges during that time. I never felt the need to cry or to quit. I owe that to prayer and my pocket-sized Book of Mormon.

The handsome American youth had only been in Czechoslovakia for a few weeks. With absolutely no language training he had come to preach the gospel to the Czech people in their own tongue. Now the time had arrived to preach his first sermon to a group of Saints and interested investigators. His experienced companion had labored diligently to help him write his speech and had also provided a phonetic guide to aid in the pronunciation of this very difficult language. Now he must face the congregation alone.

When the young man began to speak the senior companion suffered in silence as his youthful counterpart proceeded to violate every grammatical rule in the entire Czech language. However, all was not lost, because his pronunciation was so atrocious that few in the audience could tell what he was saying anyway.

After the meeting, the young elder felt somewhat embarrassed and disappointed until a matronly investigator approached him. With tear-stained cheeks and trembling voice she told him (through an interpreter), "I felt that everything you said was true—I’d like to be baptized." The promise in the Book of Mormon is that "when a man speaketh by the power of the Holy Ghost the power of the Holy Ghost carrieth it unto the hearts of the children of men" (2 Ne. 33:1).

One of the most beautiful and tender accounts of brotherly love, concern, and devotion took place in Carthage Jail on the afternoon of the martyrdom. “The afternoon was sultry and hot. The four brethren [Joseph and Hyrum Smith, John Taylor, and Willard Richards] sat listlessly about the room with their coats off; and the windows of the prison were open to receive such air as might be stirring. Late in the afternoon Mr. Stigall, the jailor, came in and suggested that [in view of threats made by the radical and bloodthirsty mob] they would be safer in the cells. Joseph told him that they would go in after supper. Turning to Elder Richards the Prophet said: ‘If we go into the cell will you go with us?’”

Elder Richards answered, “Brother Joseph, you did not ask me to cross the river with you [referring to the time when they crossed the Mississippi, en route for the Rocky Mountains]—you did not ask me to come to Carthage—you did not ask me to come to jail with you—and do you think I would forsake you now? But I will tell you what I will do; if you are condemned to be hung for ‘treason,’ I will be hung in your stead, and you shall go free.”

With considerable emotion and feeling Joseph replied, “But you cannot,” to which Brother Richards firmly replied, “I will.” (B. H. Roberts, A Comprehensive History of the Church, vol. 2, p. 283.)

I can personally testify to this form of revelation because I have experienced it.

For example: I was once concluding a talk I had given at the funeral of a fine Latter-day Saint mother and was almost ready to say amen and sit down. There came into my mind the words, “Turn around and bear your testimony.” And this I did. I thought no more about the event for several months until my sister, then living in a neighboring stake, paid us a visit and told us this incident:

She said: “There lives in our ward a woman who for many years has taken no interest in the Church. Our efforts to activate her have been fruitless. Recently she has completely changed. She pays her tithing, attends sacrament meetings regularly, and participates in all Church activities. When asked what caused the reformation, she said: ‘I went to Salt Lake City to the funeral of my mother. During the services a man by the name of Romney spoke. After he had given an ordinary talk, I thought he was going to sit down; but instead he turned around to the pulpit and bore a testimony which greatly impressed me. It awakened in me a desire to live as my mother had always taught me.’”

Finally, I was ready to change, to commit myself to God; I just couldn’t continue as I was. I went to church, talked with my bishop, and took the painful step of repentance. I was afraid of going through this process. I didn’t want to go through it again. It was too painful. It would be too easy to turn away from the Lord—I’d done it once before. Would my commitment stand firm?

But since making this momentous decision, I have learnt to love God and have gained a stronger testimony of the gospel of Christ. My conversion didn’t end there, it was just a starting point, albeit a momentous one. As I’ve attended church, studied the scriptures, and repented continually, I have become a happier person. I have learnt that accepting callings in the Church helps me grow stronger and become more faithful. It helps me develop character, but more importantly my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, bringing me closer to them. Conversion is an ongoing process, continually trying to live in accordance with the love of God.

In 2009, I was 13 years old, on my way home from school, I saw my father with two white men and one black man dressed neatly in white shirts and dark trousers. I really had the chills then because I knew our prayers had been answered. I said to myself “Whaaaaat? Dad had finally gotten a job and the owners had come to our home to interact with him, this is amazing!”
I knew their discussions were certainly about a job, so I quickly dropped my school bag inside the room, picked my chair and joined them without invitation. I couldn’t wait to hear the good news. No sooner did I do this than I realized that the conversation was about the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and the story of the Prophet Joseph Smith at the age 14. It wasn’t what I was expecting, nevertheless, the Restoration and Joseph Smith’s experience was so overwhelming! It brought much joy to my heart. The missionaries continued their visit to our home until my father’s first visit to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
On his second visit to the church, my father invited me to join. I really loved to spend time with my father, because he’s addicted to telling me stories whenever we find ourselves walking together. I suspended my Sunday service with the Pentecostal church to be with my father. I can clearly remember the hymn that was sung at the sacrament meeting that very day, “I Know That My Redeemer Lives”. The reverence observed by every member, even the little kids made it a truly a unique experience. Words cannot explain my first visit to the church. The teachings we had that very day and afterwards with the missionaries made me feel that I was not lost but was at the right place. A few weeks after that initial meeting with the missionaries, my father was baptized, and I was baptized a month later.

One sunny day when I was seven years old, I was playing outside my grandmother’s home while my family visited on the front porch. As I walked along a shrubbery-lined path by the side of the house, I suddenly felt a sharp, terrible pain in my ankle. My family heard my screams and rushed to my side. To their shock they saw that I had been bitten by a snake.
I had to get to a doctor, but we were out in the country and didn’t have a car. My uncle ran several miles to a neighbor’s home to borrow a cattle truck, and once we were in the truck, we even had to stop to get gasoline. My leg started swelling, and we didn’t know what kind of snake had bitten me.
We finally reached the hospital—a little one-story frame building—and after some tests, the doctor determined that I had been bitten by a rattlesnake. Judging from the fang marks, it had been a huge snake—about five feet long! As the poison from the bite rose in my blood, it turned my skin black, until it was black only two or three inches below my heart.
I was in the hospital for many days, and it was a painful and difficult time. I can remember having nightmares and screaming. One time, a young medical student who lived in a house across the street heard my screams as he was taking a shower. He dashed over to the hospital to help me with just a towel wrapped around him. Another time, the owner of a small restaurant about two blocks away became alarmed when he heard me, and he called the hospital, wanting to know what was going on.
I’m told I almost didn’t survive, but while in the hospital I was given a blessing. Because I was unconscious at the time, I didn’t hear the words, but my family later told me that I had been blessed that my life would be preserved for a special purpose. My relatives later told and retold this experience at family gatherings. This has given my life special meaning, and it has strengthened my testimony of the importance and power of the priesthood.

I know a wonderful Gospel Doctrine teacher who lifts class members as she teaches, but that wasn’t always the case. After joining the Church, she received a calling to teach in Primary. She felt she had no teaching skills, but because she knew the importance of serving, she accepted. Fear quickly overcame her, and she stopped attending so she wouldn’t have to teach. Thankfully, her home teacher noticed her absence, visited her, and invited her back. The bishop and ward members assisted her. Eventually, with increased faith, she began teaching children. As she applied principles now taught in Teaching in the Savior’s Way, the Lord blessed her efforts and she became a gifted teacher.

From the time I received the first birthday dollar from my grandmother I was taught to save one dime to return to the Lord as tithing. Tithing settlements were something I always looked forward to. I loved to watch the bishop put a check mark by the words “full-tithe payer” and know that the Lord was pleased with me.
I’d never held much of a job growing up, and most of my income came from baby-sitting. I kept my tithing in a separate envelope until I remembered to take it to church. Often six months worth of tithing went with me to tithing settlement.
When I got my first job after high school, I decided to open a checking account so that I would have easier access to my money. Unfortunately, I didn’t open a savings account for my tithing, and I hadn’t formed the habit of paying it on a monthly basis. But I lived at home and spent very little money, so I didn’t worry much about it.
I loved working as a nurses’ aide at the local hospital, and by the first of December I decided to apply for admission to the nearby junior college. I counted what I had in the bank and was excited to confirm that I had enough money for housing and tuition for the next three semesters if I finished working the rest of the month.
So I went to the college, made a down payment for my housing, and paid my tuition. The rest of the housing money was due when I started school the first week of January.
It was then that I realized I had forgotten to take into account the tithing that was outstanding when I balanced my books. What was I going to do?
When my tithing settlement appointment came, I was still unsure how I would handle my situation. It was the first settlement I had attended without my family, and as I sat waiting for my turn, I was tempted for the first time in my life to not pay a full tithe. After all, I reasoned, I’d always paid a full tithe before. What would just this one year matter? Besides, I could always make it up during next year. And my family wouldn’t be there to hear me pronounce the words “part-tithe payer.”
All the stories I’d ever heard about people paying their tithing and still being able to meet bills came to my mind. But they don’t apply to me, I thought. I’m in this situation because I put myself here. I just simply have to choose. Do I want to pay a full tithe, or do I want to go to college?
I still wasn’t sure until the bishop looked me in the eye and asked, “Does this amount represent a full tithe?”
“It doesn’t now, but it will,” I answered as I took out my checkbook and wrote a check for the 80 dollars I owed. Peace flooded over me, and I knew I had made the right choice.
After praying about my situation, I decided to go ahead with my plans for college. I went to the housing office, and I was given a two-week extension. Then I went looking for a job. I found one in the cafeteria, but I wouldn’t be paid in time to meet my obligation.
On the last day of the extension I went to the mailbox and found a check made out to me from the hospital. It was for 90 dollars for the accrued sick and personal-leave days I had not taken. I had no idea it was coming. I now had enough for my tithing and the 80 dollars I owed at the housing office.
This time I paid my tithing first.

My daughter, Tifanny, and I were at a store one evening. As we left the store, I saw some unopened candy and a toy just outside the door. We couldn’t find the owner, so I told her she could have the candy and toy. She looked at me and said, “I would like to be honest.” She took the candy and toy into the store. She came out with the greatest feeling for being honest and choosing to do the right. She likes to choose the right.